The link above has nothing to do with this post, but I'll never not throw it out there it if given half a chance. |
Apart from a few notable exceptions, there are basically two race formats: the most common is a set distance, like a 5k, 10k, marathon (42.2k), 50k, 50 mile, or 100 mile. The idea with those is to cover the set distance in the shortest possible elapsed time, assuming that's your jam - there's almost always a clock of some kind, though, and some recording of how quickly (or not) you did the thing.
For the record, I've never been quick, and quite enjoy taking my time to absorb the scenery while "racing". |
The other common race format is timed races: you run around a (typically fairly short) course for a set amount of time, seeing how much distance you can cover in the allowed timespan. Great examples include Horror Trail, Frosty Trail, and Stride Inside (with 1hr, 3hr & 6hr options); Tally in the Valley (with 6hr, 12hr day or night, and 24hr options); and Sunburn Solstice, which was a fascinating format in which the times were all based on the period from sunrise to sunset on the longest day of the year (full-, half-, quarter- or eighth-solstice, with the full being 15hrs23mins starting at sunrise at 5:39am and the other events joining in as the day progressed).
You can probably guess which event I chose at Sunburn Solstice. |
There are actually a few advantages to the timed format for racing, particularly if you're having a rough day. While distance-based races require that you either make it to the finish line or take a DNF, a friend of mine once insightfully pointed out it's basically impossible to DNF in a timed race: whenever you stop, that's your distance covered. If you stop hours before the event is officially over you're unlikely to place highly, but you'll still be recorded as a finisher.
No matter how early (or late) in the day. |
The short loops also mean you have frequent access to not only an aid station but generally your own gear - if you're someone like me who has food allergies or just strong preferences about your on-course nutrition and hydration, or you need to change up shoes or clothing, it can be really nice to see all your kit anywhere from every couple of minutes to once per hour. It definitely can mean carrying less, and less weight to transport around a course basically always translates to faster running if you're pushing yourself.
Particularly if there's a lot of uphill on the loop. |
There's also the camaraderie that comes with short-loop races - even quite small differences in pace can lead to you passing or being passed many times over the length of the event, which is a fabulous opportunity to offer or receive a friendly word from fellow runners. This is one of the huge reasons I'm such a fan of the format - it's like a big party with a bit of exercise involved.
We may have different ideas of what constitutes a party - or a pleasant chance to go run. |
Timed races also have their disadvantages, too. Some people find them mentally difficult because they get bored easily with the scenery, in which case I absolutely recommend avoiding any indoor track races. Ok, I actually recommend avoiding indoor tracks at all until this pandemic business is history, but you know what I mean. At 8km, the now-defunct Dirty Girls race has about the longest course I've personally done for a timed race (it was the site of my first 12-hour back in 2016), while at 2km the Frosty Trail course is the shortest of the outdoor loops I've seen, though I do know that there are multiple timed races (like That Dam Hill and Three Days at the Fair) that use a 1 mile path. If you're at it for more than an hour, you're going to cover the same ground a fair number of times, and not everyone likes the sensation of running around in circles. I've been asked how I manage not to get bored, and my answer is pretty simple: even if the loop is technically the same each time, I won't perceive it in the same way. Outdoors, the light and temperature will change with the passing hours. Indoors, my own points of focus will change: something may start to hurt, or cease to be troublesome, or I may be hungry or thirsty or tired or energetic depending on the moment.
It's a bit like a river: it is born anew every moment, as the same water never flows past twice. |
Those same short loops can be a bit demoralizing at times, particularly in the later hours of an indoor track race. The only indoor tracks on which I've run are both under 250m in length, and you pass the clock with each lap. When you're hurting and see 4:27:36 and know you've got just over an hour and a half to go, it can be tough to put in another lap and still have over mins 'til the sweet release of the finishing horn.
Assuming you make it that far. |
For some people, the constant proximity to the finish area may lead them to stop early if they're starting to tire or hurt - folks who might have no trouble pushing themselves to a distant finish may find the temptation of their crew, car, and/or home a little too alluring when they see their exit every few minutes.
It can also be a good thing if a medical issue crops up, though. |
That same constant access to your own food, drink, and gear can also cause trouble if you're pushing for maximum performance: it can take discipline to keep your stops as minimal as possible, as it's easy to waste a great deal of precious time if you're picking up nutrition too often (hint: pockets are good - use them!) or tend to dawdle over refilling or changing clothing. Stopping every 2.5km over the course of 6 hours (versus every 5-8km between aid stations at your average race) can cost you several minutes, and is seldom necessary...but oh, so tempting if your stuff is right there.
Speaking of discipline, your own ability to push yourself becomes a larger factor in timed races than it necessarily does in distance-based events, as there's no bar set for achievement. It can be all too easy to fall into the trap of lazing your way along to run the clock out, particularly if it's a rough day and you're just hanging on. It can begin to feel like there's nothing to be gained by working hard; you won't be done any more quickly, so why not just walk a bunch, or spend a half-hour chatting it up with the aid station volunteers?
Of course, only you can decide whether or not that constitutes a problem. For me personally, though, I have a tendency to measure my success in a race by the effort I put in - I'm not quick enough to win awards in most races, but I know whether or not I've given it an honest go, and I'd be disappointed in myself if I gave in too much to the allure of sandbagging just to kill time.
Completely unrelated image of someone's Christmas decorations - don't they look pretty in the snow? |
Despite the disadvantages seemingly outweighing the advantages, I'm a huge proponent of racing for time, and would seriously suggest it to anyone looking to dip their toe into the world of ultras, or just pushing their limits to run further than they have before. The short loops allow you plenty of bail-out opportunities if you truly need them, and the sense of community among runners is always at its best when you are given so many chances for interaction along the way.
It's like the antithesis of all the socially distanced events this year. Speaking of which, I finally caught Sputnik on Saturday the 28th of November! |
For those who balk at the idea due to their expectations of boredom with a short loop, or the required mental toughness to run in circles for hours, I'd say that your very hesitations should be considered enticements to give it a try. No better way to build mental resilience than to confront something that makes you balk head-on, and I guarantee the strategies you'll develop to cope with the unique challenges of a timed event will serve you well in many areas of life both on and off a race course.
So which do you prefer - time or distance? If you've never done a time-based race, do you think you'd try one? Let me know in the comments below!
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